Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25040
our movement. We were up to our knees in mud then suddenly surrounded by pure, white, crystallized perfection. A low-crawl one mile under the earth opened up into a room tall enough for a four-story building. There was no moon, no stars and no sunrise. The darkness was complete, and even time started to tick at a different rate. On our longest push, life got a little strange as we prepared to sleep. The guttural cave noises became louder. The sound of water lapping against the walls of one cavern bounced from one room to another, be'coming increasingly distorted until the . twisted echo reached our ears. We woke intermittently and couldn't tell how long we had slept or how much longer we needed to. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed. We set out the next morning in search of new rooms but traveling became difficult. The water drop offs were over our heads. We were wet and disoriented. Will, Mark and Jim eventually found a room after ascending a sketchy boulderfield held together by wet clay. They climbed one at a time as their weight loosened boulders-each rock slide of 150 feet could have easily crushed tk. At the top they discovered they couldn't enter the room without ruining it. The mud from their shoes would have stained the white quartzite floor for years. They shined their lights into the darkness and initiated a show that rivaled Tiffany's; the room sparkled in deep contrast to the brown earth of the walls just beyond. Most caves host only a couple varieties of decorations ranging from stalactites to caves pearls, but the caves in this system housed the greatest variety and highest quality Jim had ever seen from quartzite to flowstone. In a push to reach the end of the cave Jim and Mark swam on ahead. Towing their equipment made the swimming slow and hard. They turned back in favor of safety. We would have needed a boat to explore further. We retraced our steps to wrap up the expedition. As we neared the entrance we encountered the boulderfield that created the tight space of our initial entry. We had trouble finding the way out. Mark and Will took different paths but both dead-ended. We stood as a group staring at the mound. We knew there was a way through, but where? Patience is a good virtue in these situations. Things got a little tense when we repeatedly ventured in and retreated, for an out. ' Iooking Jim finally found the exit and we waded through the low space. I noticed the sticks embedded in the ceiling and contemplated what it takes to push a cave. Soon the cave's entrance was only two hundred yards away and the setting sun backlit ferns and plants hanging from the mouth of the cave. It was intensely green. It was incredible. The warmth of the jungle penetrated our light deprived bodies. This is a region of contrasts; burning jungles and quartzite rooms, mountains and sink holes, drug lords and hospitable villagers. We had pushed Tham Nam Loung and a number of caves still awaiting official names. When we left, we had mapped a few fi rsts, but we also knew there were several holes sti ll to be explored and discovered. We had simply run out of time.